


Remembrance

by Kaffeinated_Krow



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Canon-Typical Violence, Newspapers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaffeinated_Krow/pseuds/Kaffeinated_Krow
Summary: Just a news clipping from the Mora Times 11/12/109 edition about remembering the fallen of the Disaster at Kastrup.





	Remembrance

Mora Times 11/12/109  
Today’s main feature is in remembrance of the lives lost during reclamation attempt of Copenhagen. While it is commonly believed that the entire Danish contingent was over-run on that fateful night a few small handfuls of troops survived to be extracted that next morning.  
To commemorate their survival, and the loss of comrades the Mora Times will be dedicating today’s issue to the lives lost and publish excerpts of the soon to be released book “Remembrance” by award winning author James Hemming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Trans. 0011198/TS/121/DMF  
11/12/79 21:31 LCL  
K1-11: - Three Delta, Recon Three Delta, how do you read me, over? Recon Three Delta, This is Kastrup One-Eleven, do you copy? Over.  
R3D: Kastrup One-Eleven, this is Recon Three-Delta, sorry we lost you can – (static)  
K1-11: Recon three-delta, dammit--

R3D: -quest you confirm (static)

11/12/79 2201 LCL  
K1-11: -ven, This is Kastrup One-Eleven calling anyone out there we are F-(static)- mediate-

R3D: Kastrup One-Eleven, this is Recon Three Delta, sorry again original message unclear, please confirm? Repeat request for artillery and airstrikes on your position soonest? Will pass up line to Oresundsbro, have clear signal-

K1-11: Confirm? Kusipää, we are over-run! They are killing us…. Perkele they’re in the-(unintelligible finnish cursing)

R3D: Kastrup One-Eleven, this is Recon three delta, please stand by, over.

 

11/12/79 2208 LCL  
R3D: Kastrup One-Eleven, this is Recon Leader, are you receiving? I say again this is Recon leader, do you read me? Over.

K1-11: (static, possible gunfire)

R3D: Kastrup, this is Recon Leader. Repeat your last message, over.  
K1-11: (static)  
R3D: Kastrup One-Eleven, Kastru- (loud static, transmission interrupted)

 

Recon Leader received no reply.

His was the last friendly voice the soldiers of the Kastrup encampment heard until morning, indeed if anyone was left alive in the vicinity of the radio to hear him. His transmission was the last the base may have received.

Sometime after sundown on the twelfth of November in year 79 an untold number of beasts, trolls and other rash creatures began a horrifying assault on the Danish encampment. The defenders fought back tooth and nail, completely cut off by the seas and a flooded tunnel with weather grounding the artillery from Oresundsbro and air support from Aurland they had been all but overwhelmed by 6 am the next morning. 

It was around that time that a flight of Norwegian Air Wing F22 and F/A-18 fighter bombers orbiting above the clouds in response to the frantic soldier’s calls for help finally found a break in the weather. Observing the base to be overwhelmed they began dropping napalm and high explosive. As more aircraft and artillery from Oresundsbro joined into the attack, marker smoke was observed near the highest point in Kastrup, the fortified gates of the Oresund tunnel, where it was found a desperate last stand was occurring.

Late in the afternoon, when hastily emptied supply barges had arrived from Oresundsbro and disgorged their rescue teams onto that shattered peninsula they were met by a scene of devastation. Thousands of pounds of bombs and artillery, hundreds of gallons of napalm had been expended. Smoldering corpses lay everywhere, most burnt to the bone. The final count ran well above seven hundred. One hundred and ninety Danes, an indefinite number of their opponents. Eyewitnesses described the resulting silence as terrifying. Standing in the middle of the carnage ahead of some twenty-four survivors, bleeding from multiple wounds and armed only with a broken rifle was Captain Alek Anderson. 

Among those twenty four saved was private first class Birger Hemming, my elder brother. 

“You could say that the only reason any of us made it out of there that night was because of Captain Anderson.”

At the time of the reclamation Biger was a 17 year old incendiaries specialist. He described Captain Anderson as a by the numbers soldier, he didn’t seem spectacular at the time but during the over-run he rallied as many of the troops under his and other captains command as he could to withdraw back to the tunnel gates of the Oresund bridge where they would be afforded some cover and clearer lanes of fire for the artillery at Oresundsbro and air wing out of Aurland. Birger described the night as a chaotic mess of gunfire, screaming and hand to hand combat with trolls and beasts starting not long after nightfall that descended into hellfire and brimstone not long before the morning light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


I suppose you could say I had a good Kastrup. That's an odd phrase, isn't it, "a good Kastrup," but it's one I heard a lot in the army in the years after the reclamation attempt. Essentially it meant that you had avoided death or disfigurement, or a headful of broken glass like the poor bastards at the base during the over-run.  
Ever been in a tank? It's strange at first, definitely not for the claustrophobic. However the advantages are obvious, the logic of armored protection, the feeling that you and your friends are enclosed in a safe and mobile place, with the tools that you need to protect yourself and the food that you need to survive. That sense of security, of half your worries being taken care of from the start-- that'll take you a long way when it comes to enjoying a cleansing op.  
Of course if you run into a giant, collapsing building, or even one of those madman wasters with an anti-armor gun, they can certainly ruin your day, but that’s never really been too much of a problem. I think once a recon unit ran into a few wasters with scavenged tanks, which did not turn out well for them, they were old soviet t-72s, one shot to the cupola and the whole magazine would pop and send the turret flyin. Mostly we were tasked with supporting the infantry during cleansing operations and acting as armored busses. I have to confess that there's a certain sociopathic thrill in returning sniper fire, or the challenging roar of a giant with a ninety millimeter incendiary round-- the results of which I'll leave to your imagination.

But no, I rarely felt like I was in any real danger. Generally, the worst that would happen would be losing a track to an oddly placed girder, or overly brave armored beast. Which is not to say tankers never had casualties, I know of a couple crews who lost their gunner to an ill-timed beast, pulled them right out of the hatch, which is why I usually rode locked up. But not in my unit, not in any op during my career, I didn’t lose a single man under my command. We were lucky, but we were damn good.

Anyhow, I was first lieutenant in charge of four BSF-51s. In the service we call them Iron Tigers, civillians call them tanks but they’re really APCs. Four of them, sixteen men. Normally we’d be supporting the infantry, but that day we were doing recon into Copenhagen. Weather, routing, etc for the grunts to make their way in with minimal losses, and we had lost a track to UXO left behind during year 0. When I say We, I mean my tank personally. It had really messed our day up and had left us too far out to make it back before sundown, so we’d towed it into an old star fort with good water around it well before sundown and were quietly making repairs well into the night. The weather had been foul, unusually warm and the radio in my tank had chosen that afternoon to die on us. Wonderful night really. Then Recon three runs over saying he’s got Kastrup on the horn screaming fire and murder, and… er what do I say we do?

Jorn Kresten reads the transcript I've brought slowly and carefully, then reads it again. His smile is gone. I wonder, briefly, if he's not in Maloy any longer; if he's back inside the hull of an BSF-51, listening to the hiss and spittle of static on the radio. Saying the words, just like he did so many years ago. Hearing nothing in reply.

Oh, Lord.

(Long pause)

The tragedy of it was... If Sergeant Mayne hadn't been so sick, it might not have played out like it did. Mayne was my senior N.C.O., he usually commanded Recon three-- but he was beset with the flu, and we tried to keep guys like that out of the field. And we had a cherry second-lieutenant, a real greenhorn by the name-- well, I'll call him Palle. He'd just arrived from training, and of course it'd been decided that this was an ideal opportunity for him to get some valuable experience. Coming together wonderfully, right?

Mayne was a marvel. So long as I had him with me I never had to worry. Steady under siege, good with the men-- knew the line between discipline and slack-- just, just Fantasic. I used to joke that he ran the platoon and left me to the task of looking good in front of the admiralty. Palle, on the other hand... he wasn't a bad guy, but how a man as feebly insecure as him ever got to be an officer in a field unit is beyond me. He used to come to me to ask about everything, he couldn't even climb into the tank without some kind of talk. I said to him again and again, Palle, you're an officer. That's the point. You're the one in command. You make the call and you give the orders-- start her up or shut her down, open fire, break for chow, whatever. Lord Almighty, I think-- I'm sure. Yes, I would have told him he had the authority to call in airstrikes.

(Referring to the transcript)  
Yes, there he is. There's his radio man, telling those poor bastards to stand by while they're in the middle of being overrun. That was everyone's nightmare, you know, getting stuck in some siege and help not arriving. Trolls or worse getting their hands on you. I found out afterwards that Palle's whole crew were screaming at him to call the air wing or the arty boys in Oresundsbro, get some fast movers up there-- but no, he insists on conferring with Lieutenant Kresten. And our radio's out, remember, so he walks all the way up to us and the whole time...  
And that's me, right there. As soon as I realized what was happening I was screaming at his radio operator to call in the strike, call everyone, get those guys some help. Then I took over the set and tried to raise the base. There I am. "Kastrup One-Eleven, this is Recon Leader." By then they were probably all holed up by the gates.


End file.
